


i'll be your coach, Yuuri

by silentdroplets



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Episode 1, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Viktor with a K, Viktor's POV, oh god how do i tag, some insight into Viktor's thoughts, the angst is actually just a small bit scattered around idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdroplets/pseuds/silentdroplets
Summary: “V-Viktor,” Yuuri stammers in a cute accent, eyes as wide as they can go. “Why are you here?”He wants to say: Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember the banquet, where you leapt onto me and told me to be your coach? I fell in love with you back then. Don’t you remember?Instead, he says: "Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach, and I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final!"He stands up with a flourish as he lets the words spill from his mouth, trying not to flinch at the sudden prick of cold and snow against his skin, and extends an arm towards Yuuri.He wants to say: Come with me, Yuuri.Instead, he winks.Yuuri blinks once, twice, and shrieks.





	i'll be your coach, Yuuri

**Author's Note:**

> Viktor is a wonderful being. I wish I could hug him that night in episode 1 and tell him it's all right.
> 
> Enjoy!!

_“Be my coach, Viktor!”_

The words swirl in his head as he dips a toe into the water and steam. He holds the towel to his waist and inspects the surroundings.

“Vicchan, you use the onsen outside! No one there,” the warm voice of Mrs. Katsuki had chirped to him in broken English.

When he had arrived at the little inn, the hiragana for Katsuki written on the cloth hung on the entrance, he’d taken a deep breath. Tried to still the racing pulse within his body. Patted his cheeks twice.

“All right, Makkachin, let’s do this.”

When he had stepped in, all heads turned to him. He’d half-expected the people there to look at him weird or gasp and ask for autographs and shake his hand or something, but they had done none of that.

“Viktor Nikiforov? Nice to meet you!”

He’d never felt this warm in his entire life, being pulled into Mrs. Katsuki’s hug and showered in words of concern; “Are you cold? Eaten food? Put your things down here, Vicchan!”

He smiles at the tingle he still feels trickling through his skin.

Relief courses through him as he dips a leg into the water, and then the rest of his body, feeling the tension of nearly twenty-four hours of travel seep out of his muscles and into the water rippling around him. If this is what Katsuki Yuuri gets to experience every day, then he is one lucky, lucky man.

Through the crush of water against water thrumming in his ears, he registers a faint screech from inside the inn and muffled sounds of confusion. He thinks nothing of it.  _Must be some sort of accidental free show_ , he laughs to himself.

But then he notices the thud of frantic footsteps that had accompanied what must have been the ultimate scream of horror approaching the hot spring he’s in.

Before he can react to the sounds, the door slides open with a huge thunk and in front of him stands a man. A flustered man, to be precise, panting and staring at him through fogged-up glasses and a screen of utter shock.

He looks awfully familiar, even with the huge coat and a - to be really, really honest,  _cute_  - layer of softness to his body that betrays his look from that time in Sochi.

But the eyes, the hair, the face. Those captivating eyes, a sun raging behind the amber brown; the hair swaying in the soft snow; the face brimming with the same surprise he had gotten a few months back.

Yes.

This is him.

It _is_  Katsuki Yuuri.

He forces down the urge to smile and leap up to hug him. 

He wants to say: _I finally found you, Yuuri. Is this where you’ve been all this while?_

Instead, he says nothing.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri stammers in a cute accent, eyes as wide as they can go. “Why are you here?”

He wants to say: _Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember the banquet, where you leapt onto me and told me to be your coach? I fell in love with you back then. Don’t you remember?_

Instead, he says: "Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach, and I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final!"

He stands up with a flourish as he lets the words spill from his mouth, trying not to flinch at the sudden prick of cold and snow against his skin, and extends an arm towards Yuuri.

He wants to say:  _Come with me, Yuuri._

Instead, he winks.

Yuuri blinks once, twice, and shrieks.

 

———

The Japanese man is nowhere to be seen when he dries himself off, dons himself in a soft robe Mrs. Katsuki had gifted him and walks back into the inn. Even when a steaming hot plate of delicious 卵焼き is served to him; even when he digs in and nearly burns his tongue but exclaims, “вкусно!”; even when he gives the empty plate to Mrs. Katsuki and thanks her for the meal, Yuuri does not appear.

He decides to pass out on the floor right there and then, because why not, right?

He pulls Makkachin to his chest and closes his eyes.

The next time he awakes, he hears a flurry of voices above him, one of them being Yuuri’s,bless his soul. He doesn’t open his eyes, though. He really just wants to enjoy the sweet sound of Yuuri’s voice floating around the inn.

Even if it’s in Japanese.

He soon feels eyes on him, though, and he’s getting hungry again (he thinks about his diet and Yakov’s irritated screeches, but promptly remembers he’s not around with him), so he sneezes - a pathetic excuse to wake himself up, to be honest, but it’s the best he can do not to look like he’s been eavesdropping on them this whole time.

“I’m starving,” he mutters. “Hungry.”

He’s not exactly that hungry to stomach such a huge bowl of カツ丼 that’s set in front of him after he had stated to an again-flustered Yuuri that he’d want to try his student’s favourite food as a coach, but okay. It smells good. Really good.

“Wow, amazing!” he says, smiling at the excited Mrs. Katsuki kneeling beside him.

“Our specialty, the カツ丼, extra large!” she tells him, and he nods in understanding, picking up a piece of breaded meat with his chopsticks and taking a bite.

Is this what his student loves? Because he’s more than happy to make it his own favourite food, too. The omelette he had earlier seems to have disappeared from his stomach - he’s hungrier than he’d thought he was.

“вкусно!” he shouts, picking up the bowl to practically inhale the entire thing. In the midst of his eating, though, he doesn’t miss the way the woman beside Yuuri teases him about his weight and his love for the food. They’re obviously close. Are they lovers?

He can sort of feel the jealousy raging in him. Sort of, because he’s still too busy trying to eat the whole thing in one mouthful (how does Yuuri’s mother cook so well?).

“Oh? So have you eaten this recently?” he asks when the woman tells him about Yuuri’s privileges when he’d won.

“Yes, yes, I eat it often!” Yuuri replies. Viktor glances at the woman. She’s looking at him with a mischievous but fond look in her eyes.

Well.

“Why? You haven’t won anything.”

Yuuri positively freezes with that horrified look on his face. Good. He can’t help but gloat as he deals punishment on Yuuri for getting so close with someone else.

“With that piggy body of yours, lessons would be meaningless. You need to get back to your weight at last year’s Grand Prix Final, at the least-“

He wipes a grain of rice from his lips and munches on it.

“-or I can never coach you.”

Yuuri stares at him and the now-empty bowl with a shocked look. God, he’s so cute this way.

“Until then, no kat-su-don, okay, little piggy?”

He watches as Yuuri holds his head in his hands and walks around in wobbly knees.

Well, then. That’s enough for today.

Yuuri’s sister pops through the door to tell him about the luggage and he tells her to move it up to the room where he’ll be staying.

Good. Everything seems alright for now.

Yuuri looks like he’s about to faint.

 

———

He’s crying.

He barely notices it at first as he stares at pictures from last year’s banquet and re-watches the video of Yuuri’s skating. Yuuri looks beautiful, even though his image is only being reconstructed by glowing pixels behind Viktor’s phone screen, and Viktor’s heart leaps.

Though, when he recalls the way Yuuri had blushed furiously and jumped away from his touch in the room he’s staying in and the shout of terror when Viktor had asked to sleep with him, he sighs.

So much for nothing.

When he was younger, a little fairy with silvery, shiny hair trailing behind him with every move on the ice, his parents and coaches had taught him to give up.

Give up when the relationship looks like it isn’t going to work out, his parents had said.

Give up on the jumps for now and try when you’re older, his coaches before Yakov had said.

Give up when the situation doesn’t look good, he taught himself.

He only realises he’s crying when Makkachin’s sound asleep in his arms and the tears are wetting the fur his chin is buried in.

“Why does he treat me like I’m just another idol to be revered?” he asks no one in particular. “Have I gone too far? Was Yakov right - should I not have come all the way here?”

He sniffs.

“Was coming here a mistake?”

He sniffs again, trying hard not to wake the snoring dog up.

But this is the first time he’s truly fallen in love.

He shoves the panicking Yuuri out of his mind and pulls out the memory of the banquet. How his heart had pounded and his own cheeks had flushed, because goodness, the man dancing with him with such confidence and joy was a sight to behold.

This is the first time he has ever loved someone so hard.

This Yuuri may not look like the person Viktor had met during the last Grand Prix Final, but they  _are_  the same. He can see the determination in those eyes of his when Viktor had told him to cut down the fat on his body - that same fiery passion Viktor had seen in Yuuri when they’d danced together.

He’s going to make this work, no matter what.

He’s not giving up.

The tears stick to his lashes when he falls asleep, a reminder of the fears he is, he will, he  _must_  overcome when he wakes up the next morning.

 

———

When he kisses Yuuri under the rain of cherry blossoms and cheers from all his friends and family around him, he’s glad he never gave up.

**Author's Note:**

> 卵焼き - tamagoyaki, a Japanese rolled omelette
> 
> вкусно - vkusno, means "delicious!"
> 
> カツ丼 - katsudon, a pork cutlet bowl
> 
> \---
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic! It was bubbling in my mind for a while, so I decided to write it :D
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @silentdroplets, or instagram @nikiforov.yoi! And tell me if you make anything, okay? 
> 
> Have a great day!


End file.
